


Detective Work

by Maya



Category: Kenzie-Gennaro Series - Dennis Lehane
Genre: Character: Bubba Rogowski (canon spelling), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maya/pseuds/Maya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bubba does a little investigating. His way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detective Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dudski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudski/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Kenzie, Gennaro, Bubba Rogowski, or any other of Lehane's people, places or things. This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not make money from this.
> 
> Credits: Thanks to my betas. You guys did an awesome rush job when called upon. Any remaining mistakes are not their fault, but rather my own stubborness. Because I can be that way.

_That mother is crazy._ Words spoken with sincerity and respect by anyone who had any understanding of Boston's criminal side. Bubba Rogowski was one insane motherfucker.

Crazy, yes, stupid, no. It was amazing how often people confused the two. Some new-on-the-scene punk-ass thought he had to prove himself, cross the big man. Someone who thought that 'landmines in the basement' was some kind of fucking metaphor. Which inevitably led to scenes like this.

"Look, Man, I'm sorry." Said punk-ass didn't even pretend not to be crying. Kind of worthless to pretend, given that he cowered in a puddle of his own piss. "I didn't know. I swear."

Bubba frowned. Patrick would have something smartassed to say to that. Patrick could be a funny guy. But Patrick also always wanted to know how things fit into some bigger picture. Bubba didn't give a fuck about bigger pictures. He was a detail kind of guy. Sort out enough details and pretty soon the big picture learned that it was a waste of fucking resources and it was better to just leave things alone.

"Jeeze, it was just one fuckin' bitch wouldn't let go of her purse. How was I supposed to know she knew you?"

Bubba considered this. On the one hand, the man made a sort of sense. There was certainly an argument to be made regarding the serious fucking ignorance at play, here. At the same time, there was the big picture to consider, and neglecting a detail because it was incredibly fucking stupid did not tend to be wise.

"Bitch," Bubba said softly. He picked up a set of pliers, opening and closing them a couple of times. The punk's eyes widened.

"Okay, okay. I didn't mean that. She wasn't a bitch."

Bubba put the pliers down and picked up a blowtorch. He lit it and spent some time adjusting the flame. He barely heard the whimpering and sobbing from the puddle.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Please." The shithead retched, adding another mess on the floor. Bubba wrinkled his nose. It was beginning to smell in here. Some people could really be inconsiderate when it came to other peoples' property. "It wasn't even... it wasn't even my idea, man. This dude, he paid me a hundred to grab it. Said he wanted something that was in it. It wasn't even my idea."

Bubba sighed. "A hundred dollars." You really did get what you paid for. He knew the economy had gone to shit, but he had no idea it had gotten that bad. Then again, some people would cut corners everywhere, and good labour was always the first to go.

"He said I could make it five if I roughed her up a little. But I didn't know, man. I swear, I didn't know. If I knew she knew you, I wouldn't have touched her. Not even for a million."

Bubba picked up the pliers again and began heating them in the flame. Patrick would probably ask questions here, wondering who 'the dude' was and why he might want what was in the bag. The first part now mattered to Bubba. The second, not so much.

"I swear, I swear. I don't even know who he was. Just some dude who had a lot of cash. I – " The rest of the sentence broke off in a scream.

* * *

Bubba opened the fridge and got himself a beer. This private detective shit was a lot of work. He didn't know why Angie and Patrick didn't charge more. Then again, Patrick could be kind of stupid sometimes. Like all the times he let himself get beat up. Bubba didn't understand why he did that. If the man would shoot more people who looked at him crosswise, he wouldn't have that problem. Ange, too, tended to ask questions first and shoot later. But they'd always been like that. And they were still his friends, stupid or not.

He made a couple of phone calls while he drank, trying to decide whether or not he was hungry. He decided he was, so he grabbed his jacket and went out.

* * *

"Who are you?" The tone seemed a little arrogant coming from a skinny-assed guy who'd spent way too much on his suit and not near enough on his workforce. Bubba ignored him. 'Dude' wasn't going anywhere, not with Nelson Ferrare sitting next to him in the booth and blocking his exit.

Bubba took another bite of his steak, even as across the table the little man got angrier. "You tell me who you are right now." The voice was a little squeaky.

Bubba finished his steak and laid down his fork. He picked up the knife. Reaching across the table he seized the dude's tie and used the knife to pin the tie to the table. Nelson giggled. The dude did not.

"You can't do that! That's assault."

Nelson started laughing harder. It was the kind of thing Patrick would find funny, too. Or maybe it'd just piss him off. Patrick didn't like whiny guys any more than Bubba did.

Bubba picked up his fork again, using the tines to lift the little man's chin. "Don't interrupt me while I'm eating."

The man's gaze dropped towards Bubba's empty plate. Before he could say something stupid, again, the waitress slid a plate containing a large slice of pie onto the table, accompanied by a clean fork. Bubba took his time with the pie. Amazingly, there came no sounds from the other side of the table.

Only when he was finished, did he deign to look up again. The guy hadn't moved, still leaning forward so as not to strangle on his tie.

"You," Bubba said, quietly, "hurt a friend of mine. That was not wise."

"I... who..." Some of the arrogance seemed to return. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't hurt people."

"Someone else says otherwise." Bubba sipped at his beer. "When the cops arrest you, they don't care if you did it or just said to." That had always seemed like a crime of its own. Hence why Bubba preferred to handle things himself: if you were going to do the time, you might as well do the crime.

"The coffee-shop bitch?" The guy's eyes widened. "That one? That wasn't..."

In a single move, Bubba stood up and pulled the knife from the table, freeing the tie. An instant later he had the blade against the little prick's carotid. "She is my friend. The next time she tells you to fuck yourself, you get out of her sight and do so. You do not decide she needs to be taught a lesson and if you do I will assume you did not learn yours." He smiled, suddenly. "The only reason I don't kill you is she asked me not to." He'd been very disappointed when Angie said that. Then again, she'd only said 'don't kill him'; she'd said nothing about anyone's ability to walk or talk in the near future. 'Don't kill him' and 'don't tell Patrick'. Presumably, because Patrick would be intelligent and kill the man.

Bubba sighed. Unfortunately, if he messed this asshole up, he would go to the hospital and the hospital would call the cops. Then the cops would be obliged to ask questions and Bubba hated having to explain himself. But with no injuries, the cops would just tell him the same thing Angie had. _Bubba Rogowski constitutes a threat just by breathing_ , he'd heard one say once, _and we can't arrest someone just for existing._ Every now and then they'd tried, but Bubba had a good lawyer. Not as good as Patrick's, but Patrick's lawyer was also a little too honest.

Bubba pulled the knife away and sat back down, nodding to Nelson. Nelson stood up and let the man flee.

"Think he'll listen?" Nelson asked.

Bubba shrugged.

Nelson flipped a wallet onto the table. It wasn't his. "If he doesn't, we know where he lives."

Bubba nodded, smiling. He pulled some cash from the wallet and dropped it on the table as he stood up and stuffed the wallet into his pocket. No, he decided, he definitely didn't want to do this detective thing full time. It wasn't as fun as Patrick and Angie made it out to be.

Hell, he didn't even get to shoot anybody.


End file.
